Shoes
by SPG inc
Summary: A small fic set after the end of the DC game. How life goes on for our two favorite, time crossed heroes.
1. Chapter 1

**_Spoiler alert. This fic is isn't a sequel to my on-going DC novelisation, nor do I necessarily consider this canon to my fic or the game- it's just an idea I had one weekend. Enjoy!_**

**Shoes**

'Shoes'.

Monica frowned at the note she'd made for herself. She should have done something about it last week, but in all the confusion she'd left it till the last minute. Well, not the last minute exactly- she had that afternoon and that evening and the night, and then it would be the big day…

Yes, it was the latest earth shattering news- Maximilian Zelmite and Monica Raybrandt were getting married, and there was one day to go.

Monica smiled as she looked around her room in Max's mansion where she had been living for the last year. Tonight was the last night she'd have a room to herself, she thought in what was supposed to be a wistful tone but instead felt herself being overcome by giddy excitement. Not that she'd had much chance to enjoy her last few nights of privacy- Mena and Claire, old friends of Max, had been helping Monica to prepare for the event ever since it had been announced, and had been the ones to do all the frantic dashing about and shrieking and panicking to counter Monica's coolly optimistic attitude with which she approach most eventualities, even her own wedding. She swore they were more excited than she was, and Monica had spent most of her time in the last few weeks trying to keep them both on a leash before they forgot this wasn't actually their wedding.

Monica had never gotten used to the idea of sitting back and letting people wait on her; she always had to be in control of things going on around her. Even as a baby, when her royal servants had started to do anything for her, the infant princess had become entranced with their actions and immediately moved to join in, usually making a bigger mess as she crammed her toys into clothes drawers, sprayed freshly cleaned windows with her milk bottle or tried using her diaper to polish shoes.

Speaking of which…

"Claire, I really don't need any of your shoes," the former princess insisted as she pushed three pairs of shoes out of her face.

"Why not have a look at mine?" Mena pushed her way forward. "I know you all think I dress terribly but I have great taste. And I'm only one size bigger th-"

"I really don't need any shoes, thanks," Monica insisted, struggling to remain polite as she repeated herself for the eighth time, and lied as she added "I've already got something prepared."

Oh thank goodness she'd been trained for a career in politics.

After another ten minutes of deflecting demands to see the shoes, refusing offers of other shoes and ignoring pleas to shorten the overly long dress Monica had insisted on, the two girls were bustled down the stairs and out of the house. Being thrown out didn't dim their enthusiasm in the slightest. Their excited nattering continued right up to the point Monica closed the door in their faces, and didn't even stop then- just sort of faded into the distance as the girls finally went home.

Alone, Monica sighed tiredly. She really had to get the last of her preparations done. She had something special in mind, and everything had to be just perfect for Max. The big day was of course for both of them, but she particularly wanted it to be perfect for him. She owed it to him; she was humbled to be allowed the chance to marry him. In truth they'd been together for such a short time; _known_ each other for such a short time, but she knew he was the one for her. She knew it from that day a few months ago when they'd found the new path in Balance Valley- no… longer even than that. Perhaps from the moment she'd first met him. When she thought of the times he'd been there for her, she knew there was no doubt he was the one for her.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

One year ago

Unexpected arrivals from Monica had become commonplace. Over the last four years the girl had been finding ways to bend the rules of time to come back and visit Max, and the boy no longer reacted with the same confusion as he had when she'd first appeared in the zelmite mine with a Starglass.

But this time was different.

Max pressed a mug of cocoa into his friend's hands as she hunched in her chair next to the fire. Her face was desolate and didn't register the hot drink in her hands, and she shook with something more than the night's chill. She'd clearly been crying not so long ago.

"Monica, what happen?" Max asked as soon as he'd checked no one had been awoken by Monica's unexpected arrival. Somehow he'd known something was going to happen that night, and had been wide awake and staring out the window when the warrioress had half run, half staggered into the garden and towards the door. Whatever was the matter, he didn't want everyone else sticking their oar in till he'd heard it for himself.

Monica raised her head to look at the boy crouching in front of her. Max felt his heart clench as his eyes met the bloodshot ones set into a distraught face, and his hands twitched with a need to act and put right whatever it was that had reduced the bravest girl he'd ever known to tears.

"The election ended today."

On the few occasions Monica had been able to visit, she'd kept Max apprised of the goings on in the future. She'd taken her place as the leader of what remained of the Raybrandt kingdom, but for the sake of what she saw as building a fairer and more progressive system of government she'd ended nearly a hundred years of tradition by renouncing the monarchy and establishing a democracy, becoming President Monica of Raybrandt and committing only to a four year term of leadership before the people would have the choice to elect their leader.

"They all thought I was an idiot for giving up my family's power," Monica whispered. "Even my own advisors. They practically said it to my face."

"But that's ridiculous! How could people dislike an idea like that?" Max protested.

"I thought they would have gotten used to it by now, but my rival said it was because I didn't want to lead; that I didn't have the strength to rule and I was trying to pass the job onto someone else."

"But what about all you've done? Defeating Emperor Griffin and-"

"They said I was nothing but a warrior without a war," Monica's cold and bitter words cut Max off. "I also remember the phase 'over the hill' being used."

The slightest flicker of Monica's hot temper showed in her eyes, and for a moment Max thought she might bounce back from her sadness in a storm of determination to turn the situation around. But the fire quickly dwindled, and Monica hung her head low.

"You remember Gaspard?"

Max was surprised by the sudden change of subject. How could he forget that man? A terrifying, warmongering monster who they'd both fought with, and in the process learned that for all his brutality he was a victim of circumstance- of fear and superstation because of his changeling demon father. Since that day, Monica had had to live with the painful knowledge that if her kingdom had done more to protect changelings from that sort of discrimination, Gaspard wouldn't have returned to take revenge, by destroying her kingdom's capital and slaying her father.

"The first thing I did when I took power was pass laws preventing the kind of prejudice he faced, so that no one would ever end up like him. So many people couldn't face the idea of accepting changeling demons. Varn played on that- his party made all these insinuations about me, about how I was too weak to lead, about the plans I had for my country. He said the true leadership of Raybrandt died with its king."

Max was flabbergasted to hear this. Monica had always described her main political rival- Governor Rosarius Varn of the east of the Raybrandt Kingdom- as an oily, unscrupulous man who adopted a win-at-any-cost attitude. Max had always assumed Monica had been exaggerating about him. Clearly she'd been telling the truth, and right now Max would have given everything he owned for just five minutes alone with him. How dare he speak about Monica's father like that! ? How dare he use his memory to publically embarrass her! ? Max knew the burden she carried- she'd found her father herself, before his body had even gone cold. How many people could claim to know pain like that? And this jumped up, egotistical politician had made a joke of it?

Max would have liked to express his feelings verbally, but for the first time ever it seemed his friend wasn't in the mood for fighting words, so instead he gently reached out to touch her hand comfortingly. She didn't respond.

"I'm so sorry Monica," he said uselessly. He hated himself for being unable to do more.

"What about your supporters- you must have some, right? Are they going to object to what he said? What's going to happen next?"

Monica looked up at Max again. This time there was something that looked like shame on her face.

"I didn't concentrate on any election campaign. I was too busy working on destroying the leftovers of Griffin's army. It was the first time the people could choose to have a different leader; I didn't really think they'd vote for anyone else for the first time ever."

She hung her head again as though unable to look Max in the eye, and he heard her muttering "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!"

"But, you had ideas, surely?" Max asked. "Plans for kingdom- stuff like that. People must have known about that."

"I was away fighting rogue monsters on the boarders. Varn had no plans for the country; I assumed his campaign would fall through. But while I was away he worked on a smear campaign against everything I was doing. He discredited everything about me until no one in their right mind would vote for me, and he was the only other real candidate. I looked absolutely ridiculous- they announced the results publically and no one there was on my side. I had to sit through the whole thing while Varn gloated over his victory. I had six percent of the votes."

Monica barked a harsh laugh.

"My own kingdom and I couldn't win my own first election."

"There's still the next election Monica. You said this Varn is an idiot. All you gotta do is work on a plan for next time…"

Max was cut off by the withering look Monica gave him before dropping her gaze again.

"Max, I can't face my people ever again. They hate me. My father raised me to rule the land and my own people hate me. I can never go back there. I've failed my father. I've failed my duty and everything I believed in."

"You can't think like that," Max said firmly.

"Can't I? Varn was right; I failed to live up to my father. I'm a fool. He'd be so ashamed of me."

"That's not true!" Max almost shouted. His voice was harsh, but his touch when he took hold of Monica's chin and forced her to look at him was soft.

"You're not a fool. You made a mistake, that's all. No one's perfect, and you can't expect to be able to please everyone."

Monica didn't look convinced, but she kept her attention trained on Max. He continued.

"Everything you did- passing those laws, fighting the rogue monsters- everything you did, you did because it was the right thing to do. I know you Monica, and if you'd known that making those decisions would turn people against you but you still believed they were the right decisions you would have gone ahead with them anyway."

Monica held Max's gaze for what seemed an age. Tears began to well in her eyes and she croaked "But my father, he was the king. He wanted me to look after the land when he was gone. And I-"

"You did the right thing, even though no one else could see it. You stuck to what you believed in without thinking about what it would mean for your popularity because you cared about your people more than you cared about yourself. You say your father would be ashamed. I say he'd be proud."

The mug slipped from Monica's hand and toppled onto the rug. It lay forgotten as Monica latched onto Max for dear life and cried into his shoulder.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

Monica allowed herself an unusual looking smile. Strange how Max made what should have been a bad memory into a good one. But ever since she'd met him, Monica had found her fiancé to be an entire aspect of life unto himself; his presence made all the difference. That was why she so wanted to marry him, and that's why she needed to make the final arrangement for their day to be perfect.

'_Or perhaps I should say 'purrrrrrfect','_ she giggled out loud, but then set her jaw in a frown. There was only one way to make the final preparation, and it had to be done now.

Monica quickly grabbed her boots from where they sat on the shoe rack, pulled them on, and opened the front door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Shoes**

Max squinted at the book in front of him, but was frustrated to find he was unable to read it. With a huff, he put his glasses back on. He hated that he now needed glasses, even if only to read and work by, but the years of engineering with tiny components had taken their toll. He had started to make plans for some sort of glass lenses he could fit over his eyes, but Doctor Dell had claimed it was impossible when asked for his professional opinion.

Max was sitting at the desk on the first floor of Cedric's maintenance shop. He was now running the shop, as well as helping his father run the family mining business now that the zelmite mine was in full production mode. He'd been working on the accounts all day, and still after all this time he couldn't believe that paper work was so _boring_.

Since he'd started doing this kind of work two years ago, Max had been wondering if this was why for most of the time he'd known him his father was so grim. Handling work like this all day for years on end was enough to make anyone miserable as sin. But he had to persevere; he was getting married tomorrow, and he had to be up to date with his work before he could take any extended time off. To this end he'd been working flat out for a week to clear his desk and prepare for the wedding, even with his father's surprisingly generous offer to relive some of his workload- he had, after all, been married himself once.

Despite his determination to continue, Max's concentration was drawn away from work as fate exploited his greatest weakness- Monica.

The summer evening was dark by now, and the lampposts only gave out a soft light, but the slightest glimpse of his beloved dashing through the chilly street grabbed his attention more potently than an explosion. Max instantly abandoned his work in favour of watching the former princess make a beeline for Morton's Sundries across the road. He observed her through the shop window haggling briefly over some supplies- a gift that Max had taught her. Being former royalty, Monica was used to just paying the price of any given item she might need without a second thought. Max on the other hand had learnt most of his early business acumen from Cedric and Donny, and haggling for a price was second nature by the time he was ten. He'd done his best to pass that knowledge onto Monica, but from the looks of how much gilda she was handing over to Morton, either she had a long way to go or was too stubborn to take on board even half of what he'd taught her.

Monica stepped out of the shop with her purchases. She looked over to the maintenance shop contemplatively, as if thinking of going in to say hi. Max looked around and was pleased to see there were no other chairs in the room. He settled back hopefully, anticipating Monica charging in and commandeering his lap for a seat, where upon they would kiss and cuddle and talk about how much they loved each other and all the other things that would make other people sick.

Alas, Monica seemed to think it better to let Max get on with his work because she took off down the main street back to the house. Max watched disappointedly as the girl vanished, taking a length of thick hide and a handful of unknown bones.

As Max prepared himself for a long evening of sulking and working, he wondered what on earth Monica wanted with those items. As well as haggling, Max had also taught her a bit about inventing. Perhaps she was making something, but what she planned to build with those and at this time…

Sometimes Max wondered if he'd ever really understand what went on in her head. But he didn't mind that; he'd love her just the same no matter what was on her mind at any given moment.

It had been five years now since their adventure to defeat Emperor Griffin had come to a close, and the long stretches of time between Monica's visits had been torture. It was like she awoke a special feeling in him whenever she was around, as if he was never really awake without her. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be separated from her now. She fascinated him- she made him feel so alive.

'_Not to mention _kept_ me alive,'_ he considered with a slight smile.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

Ten months ago

Arthur's fist was like a small demolition ball, yet Max never saw it coming. One moment he was trying to read the windup monsters movements, next he was being punched off his feet as it lunged forward faster than he'd anticipated.

The world lurched as Max tried to focus on his enemy before its massive lance ran him through. Despite his hazy vision it was clear he'd never be able to fend off the killing blow. It would take a full blown miracle to save him now.

There was no miracle coming, but there was a guardian angel.

Monica appeared out of nowhere. With precision and quick thinking that left Max reeling again, she smashed a bottle of mineral water on the machine, used her magic to freeze it solid and trap its lance arm in place, and while it was trying to free itself forced her sword up into the vents on its rear. The machine let out a mechanical scream and steam shot out of its ears as Monica wrenched the blade about, smashing gears and clockwork counterweights. The dirty iron construct stopped hovering and clattered to the ground.

"You alright, Max?" she asked, holding out a hand whilst observing another monster approaching them.

"Yeah, fine," he got up without assistance, disappointed to have needed her help to take on a single monster. Even after so long his sheltered years in Palm Brinks held him back in battle. He wondered how he had survived that vast adventure to save the world just those few four and something years ago.

Then he remembered the answer was right next to him.

"Neither of us can take a bone lord head on," Monica explained matter-of-factly as the bony simulacrum of a man with a huge cleaver stomped forward. "I'll get in close and distract it. You get behind and attack. If it turns on you, attack once then dodge back; that sword moves too fast for a second blow, okay?"

"Sure."

If it hadn't had been for Monica he'd never have survived that quest- would never have even started it. The moment Flotsam had demanded he hand the Atlamillia over, Max, terrified for his life, would have given in without question. It had been Monica who'd stopped him. The merest sound of her voice, even before he'd actually met her, made him remember his courage, and he'd faced down the clown and fought his way to the outside world. From there he would have been lost, floundering with no idea what to do, but again Monica had been there to guide him.

And here she was, even now giving him the direction her needed to succeed, and not by taking charge or ordering him around, humiliating him with her vast knowledge against his soring lacking one. Just like when that adventure had started, she'd joined his efforts, becoming a team member- a partner- instead of a leader, looking as much to Max for solutions to their problems as offering her own insights.

Now they were in Mount Gundor; volunteer militia working to destroy the monsters that had been raiding the town. Monica could have probably dealt with it single handed if need be. She probably would have liked to. Since her self-imposed exile from her own time after the election fiasco, Monica had been at a loose end. She found it hard adjusting to a new life in Palm Brinks, and feeling too ashamed to return to her own land was clearly a heavy burden for her. And yet she could always manage a smile for Max. She gushed gratefully when Gerald had permitted her to take a room in the Zelmite mansion to call home, and had graced Max with her friendly companionship ever since. Even now, she'd welcomed Max's company on the monster fighting expedition, happy to admit she might need some help rather than go without him. And despite her superior skill and knowledge of monsters she hadn't put Max down once- hadn't assumed authority over him. She saw him as an equal, even as Max felt inadequate next to her. At one point he had voiced his concerns that he might be slowing her down, but she'd dismissed the idea without discussion.

"Max, you've taken out a giant clown robot, a rampaging butterfly, sea dragons, hordes of monsters and an all-powerful demon. When it comes to battle, you're not allowed to be uncertain," she said, before adding in a more sincere tone "and I wouldn't want to go into battle without you at my side."

A guilty part of him was glad that she'd left her time for good. He hated that she was still upset by it and hoped she would come to terms with it quickly. He'd do anything to help her, and anything to make her comfortable in her new home… but he wouldn't want to lose her again for the world.

In less than a minute the bone lord was dead. Max and Monica had defeated it together.

"That wasn't so bad," Max wiped sweat from his brow.

"There's still plenty more to come," Monica pointed out as a squall of feral heat fairies materialised out of the gloom. Eight against two- good odds.

"You ready for this, partner?" Monica grinned. Max met her eyes and found himself grinning back.

"Sure am, partner," he replied.

Then they hefted their weapons and charged headlong into the battle.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

Max wondered just what he'd be without Monica. The thought was both inconceivable and terrifying. But it didn't matter. Monica was here and after tomorrow he wouldn't have to be without her ever again.

Max looked at the clock. He frowned- it was broken.

"After five years, I think it's about time I fixed that," he muttered, before burying himself in work again, rushing to finish.


	3. Chapter 3

**Shoes**

The day of the wedding, and it promised to be a good day. Even the sun was celebrating, shining bright in a cloudless sky without being hot enough to make people uncomfortable in their suits. The arched doorway to the church was decorated with lilies and roses and lines of red carnations were strung from the fence. Gerald Zelmite had insisted that no expense be spared for his only son's wedding, and the mayor had personally made sure the whole event would be picture perfect. Palm Brinks was a small town where news travelled fast. With the Zelmite family being so famous both for their wealth and their part in originally settling Palm Brinks, coupled with Max and Monica's status as local celebrities for saving the world, meant that pretty much the entire town's population (and then some) was expected to attend. Mayor Need had been both overjoyed and stressed to the point of a nervous breakdown as he made preparations months in advance. Gerald had just accepted it as a matter of course that the wedding would be a major event- "We started this town after all,"- and Monica, having attended royal functions and whatnot throughout her life took it all in stride. Max on the other hand had pleaded for the whole thing to be dumbed down, with only friends and relatives invited. His words had fallen on deaf ears.

Now Max couldn't care less about who was there. Everyone he'd ever met in his whole life including the Dark Element and Flotsam the clown ring master could have been there and he wouldn't have looked twice. He didn't think about the ridiculously excessive decoration, which included colourful bouquets nailed to the sides of the pews, pedestals for Max and Monica to stand on, each emblazoned with their respective family crests and draping gold tapestries that Father Bruno had dug out of storage to hang from the ceiling. He didn't even care that he was pressed into a suit jacket so smooth and stiff that he'd had to walk to the church rigidly to avoid getting the slightest crease in it, nor that his father had forced him to wear a bowtie and had ordered the butler to hide his hunting cap.

He was getting _married_!

'…_!'_

Max felt sick as he climbed a step higher onto his pedestal in front of the altar. The slight height made him feel dizzy and he wobbled. Oh this was going to be just great- the most important day of his life and he was going to end up being sick before falling face first into a pile of his own vomit. Fortunately a hand steadied him in time.

"Hang in there, lover boy," Donny quipped as he balanced Max upright. "Don't wanna lose you yet."

"Thanks Donny, but I'm fine."

"Fine! ? Now that's a good one. You look like you're afraid the priest is gonna tear you ter pieces," Donny moved closer so that he could whisper to Max.

"That's 'sposed to be Monica's job, remember?"

Max swatted Donny away and glared at him. His short friend simply grinned cheekily and darted back to his seat. Max also took a moment to eye his suit enviously- brown and looking like the same material carpets were made from, but transparently more comfortable along with a normal cotton shirt while Max was stuck in his suit jacket and red waistcoat. Donny was even wearing a hat- a two toned beret, blue down the centre and cream on the sides, delicately positioned on top of the splat of black hair that as ever concealed his eyes.

Through the sickness and envy, a pang of regret stabbed at Max as he watched Donny take his seat at the end of the front pew on the right side of the church, the place of honour closest to Max. When he'd first thought about a best man, for just a moment he'd been torn between who he should ask- Donny or Cedric. Donny was his closest friend and strangely reliable despite what his personality might suggest, but his friendship with Cedric had always been a unique bond. Cedric would object to the idea of an old man holding such a place of honour at a young man's wedding, but Max would have disregarded such a suggestion with a laugh.

Then he'd remembered- the difficult decision had been taken out of his hands.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

Seven months ago

"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust," Father Bruno concluded before reverently closing the book of scriptures and taking a respectful step back from the grave.

Free of ceremony, the gathered people began milling about. Some spoke in hushed tones, others began to leave, while those with a mind to picked up small handfuls of dirt from the pile to drop onto the simple coffin. A large clump of damp earth fused around a rock made a dull thud. Someone lightened the mood a little by commenting that they'd wake the old boy up.

Max didn't laugh or cry. His face was gaunt.

"Max, are you okay?" Monica asked gently.

Max managed to turn his head to look at her. Her appearance, so unusual for her, helped distract him for a moment. She was wearing a hat with a veil going down the back to her shoulders, under which her hair had been wrapped modestly into two tight buns- it was too long for a single bun. Her black dress buttoned all the way up to a high collar and hung down to her ankles. The sleeves were tight and only stopped at her wrists, and she was wearing plain black shoes instead of boots. Max hadn't put much thought into his clothing; just put on a suit he didn't know he had and left his cap at home without question. Monica looked like a puritan. Max could almost have laughed seeing her dressed like that.

Almost.

"You wanna go now?" Monica suggested when she got no answer. Max shook his head and looked away. He didn't know what he wanted to do. He felt like he wanted to somehow act, but didn't know what to do. Some vital part of him had been broken with Cedric's death. It hadn't been a sudden or violent death- he had died peacefully in his sleep. But it had been unexpected. To Max, Cedric had always been a steady, tireless pillar of strength, always so precise and confident, never slow or tired or uncertain. It was too easy to forget that Cedric was an old man.

Now he was gone, and everything had changed. Just a matter of days ago everything had been normal. He'd been with Monica in Balance Valley. They'd been so happy together. And they… but now…

"Your dad made a great speech," Monica derailed his thoughts. As she spoke, Gerald Zelmite was moving through the group, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries and thanks for coming. Dignified, polite and courteous- the sort of person Cedric deserved to have spoken for his funeral.

"I should have…" Max said, but his voice trailed off ashamedly. "He asked-"

"You didn't have to speak if you didn't want to. We all have to face this in our own way."

The words rang hollow with Max. Mayor Need, Cedric's old friend, had spoken at the funeral as well as his father who'd been Cedric's former employer when the zelmite mine was still running. There was no one there to represent Cedric's family, though there were many friends- Cedric's wife had died years ago, and their son Roy had been killed in a cave in at the mine when he was young. There was also a daughter called Jessie, but she'd quarrelled with her parents when she'd married and left for a distant town. This was before Max was born, and presumably she had perished during Emperor Griffin's destruction of the world.

Max had seen a picture of Cedric's family. It had been taken the day Roy had got his first job with his father in the mine, shortly before his death. He had been about the same age as Max when he'd first started working for Cedric. Max wondered if that was why the old man had taken such a shine to him.

Max's guilt seeped even deeper into his heart at the thought.

Giving up on words, Monica entwined her arm around Max's and held his hand, pulling them closer together. He took what comfort he could from the gesture, but it was a single candle cupped in his hands to warm him against a blizzard of remorse. His spirit was crushed.

"When I was small, Cedric was always like some sort of friendly uncle or granddad to me." Max said. He wasn't sure he even wanted to talk to anyone about this, even Monica, but he had to talk; he couldn't hold himself in anymore more. He needed to act and break his indecisive paralysis, and Monica gave him an excuse to start talking.

Monica, recognising what Max needed from her, didn't reply and just waited to hear more.

"He was always good to me. I always felt I could trust him. When he helped me to escape the town and travel the world I wasn't surprised; he was always the person I could rely on."

Max paused as his father drifted over to them. Monica acknowledged him with a look, but Max continued staring into the hole in the ground. Gerald looked like he might speak, but then seemed to think better of it. He patted Max on the shoulder but did nothing more. As he made to leave he caught Monica's eye and gave her a slow, deliberate nod, which Monica mirrored in understanding. Gerald wasn't the affectionate sort. He was strict and reserved, but he could recognise that there was a time for telling someone to pull themselves together and now wasn't it. Unable to express the right emotions or find the words Max needed to hear, he was trusting the task to Monica.

As Gerald left Max looked at his retreating back and said "If I ever needed advice or someone to talk to I always went to Cedric. Me and father- we never really… got on. We'd argue and I'd hate it, but if I spoke to Cedric about it I'll feel a whole lot better, and next time I saw father we wouldn't be arguing."

He looked back at Monica.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"We always want advice from people who are gone," Monica stated. "It's natural. We think back to them, wondering what they'd say or do, and we wish that we'd listened to them more while we had the chance, rather than taking them for granted."

Monica's words were blunt. They bruised Max, and he felt an accusatory anger at the suggestion. But then he remembered- Monica was speaking from experience. He bit his tongue and averted his gaze again.

"But you know what?" Monica spoke in a softer, gentler tone. "Some say that when you lose someone it's better to move on and look to the future. I say it's better to look at the past, and the memories that the one you've lost left behind. You know Cedric, Max. When you need his advice you'll think back and you'll already know what he'd say."

Max frowned as though struggling between being doubtful and being thoughtful.

"Cedric may be gone, but he'd left a lot of himself behind with us. It'll take time, but eventually you will remember that."

"If I don't father will probably remind me," Max said bitterly. "He'll remind me of how I clammed up at the funeral."

"Your dad was Cedric's friend as well," Monica pointed out. "I doubt he spoke at the funeral just to be polite. I'll bet he's finding this hard. He probably understands just how you feel, though he'd never admit it. Maybe you should be talking to him rather than me; give you both a chance to talk about this?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Max snorted derisively.

"You don't _'think'_?"

"Well no. I just said me and father-"

"Well if you're not so sure, what do you think Cedric would tell you to do?"

Max pause. Monica waited, holding a slight breath as she wondered if she'd taken the right approach.

And then at last…

"He'd say I should talk to father, and we should both get it off out chests."

They both lapse into a relieved silence, Monica because she hadn't made things worse and Max because he genuinely felt better.

"Shall we go?" Monica asked.

Max took a moment to turn away and wipe a tear from his eye.

"Okay."

Arm in arm, Max and Monica turned and set off after Gerald. The burial had taken place outside the town gates, in a special cemetery next to a mine outlet where graves were traditionally dug for those who died in mine accidents, whether their bodies could be recovered or not. Cedric and his wife had long ago chosen to be buried with their son.

As they made their way back to the gates, Max said with a slight grin "You're a pretty good speaker too. Good thing you were trained in politics."

Monica smiled as well, though her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.

"Yeah. Good thing, huh?"

Without another word, Max and Monica strolled back into Palm Brinks, their hearts a little lighter than they were before the funeral.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

In the end Max had spoken to his father about Cedric's death, and the conversation had gone surprisingly well. Gerald Zelmite was indeed strict and prone to criticising pretty much everything, but even he couldn't keep up his façade of indifference in the face of sincerity, and Max had spoken sincerely even as his father scolded him for letting the side down by not speaking at the funeral, both because of the strength Monica had given him and because Cedric would have told him to not lose his temper if he'd been there.

Max tried not to dwell on the regret of Cedric's passing. While he'd always miss his old man, he'd learned to live with the loss and to appreciate the memories he had of him. Now of all times he couldn't deny the disappointment that Cedric wouldn't be there at his wedding, but like Monica had said, he had a good idea of what he'd say if he were here.

Max's thoughts were distracted as Father Bruno gestured and the assembly took to their feet. A trio of brass instruments groaned out a slow but upbeat marriage march. The musical notes gripped Max in a knot of tension.

'_Oh my God! I'm getting M-A-R-R-I-E-D!'_

He might have tried to make a run for it right then and there if his legs weren't locked in place. The music continued as everyone except Max turned to look at the doorway to the church. With a monumental effort, Max managed to pivot awkwardly to face his destiny that was walking down the aisle…

… and the sight of it took his breath away.

Monica looked positively majestic. Her face- blankly dignified except for the reserved joy sparkling in her eyes- had been dabbed with only the slightest hint of makeup to compliment her natural beauty. Her hair was held in its habitual ponytail not by a hair ornament but by a small mound of white flowers that bloomed from the back of her head where they had been intricately wound into her locks. The braid fell in a smooth, uninterrupted fall until the very end where a gold ribbon tied it. The girl was wrapped in an elegant creamy white gown that hugged loosely to her body, describing her curvaceous form without clinging to her too tightly. Her arms and shoulders were completely bare. The dress started just above her midriff save for two triangular 'flaps' that reached up over her chest to preserve her modesty. From the top corners of these flaps, two straps that would be better described as threads slid over the girl's skin till they tied at the back of her neck. The hem of the silky gown gathered in gently ripples around her feet. The dress looked too long; it was only by pushing the pooling material forward with each step that Monica was able to move forward without tripping. Still, she stumbled twice and winced as she did as though she was having trouble with her feet, but each time she did she looked like she wanted to laugh about it.

'_Never understand what's going through her head,'_ Max grinned to himself.

At last the radiant beauty was at his side, stepping up onto her own pedestal on his left, and the congregation was invited to take their seats. Max looked on at his bride wordlessly, too overwhelmed by the sight of her to speak. He vaguely felt Monica taking his hand gently in hers.

"Look out, you're letting the flies in," she quipped. Max hadn't even realised his mouth was hanging open. He shut it quickly, feeling himself blush with embarrassment. Blushing wasn't something he was prone to. This wedding was messing with both his mind _and_ body.

"How are you so calm?" Max muttered, aware that the audience would soon be settled and talking would be frowned upon by Father Bruno.

"Who says I am? Maybe I'm just better at hiding how I feel than you."

Before anymore could be said, Father Bruno cleared his throat and lifted his book of scriptures, giving a few short words to greet everyone.

Monica returned her grip to the flowers she was carrying- not a bouquet but more like a ball of stemmed flower heads. Before max could ask the reason for this strange choice of decoration Monica turned sharply to him.

"You ready for this, partner?" she smiled broadly at him.

Max felt himself smiling back at her. That was Monica, always eager to be the first to dive into anything. Her optimism and excitement dispelled his own nervousness in a heartbeat, and he gave her the same reply he'd given a dozen times before to that very same question.

"Sure am, partner."


	4. Chapter 4

**Shoes**

The ceremony proceeded smoothly. Neither Max nor Monica were particularly devout followers of their respective faiths, but Monica had explained that her own faith was focussed around the flow of power in the natural and spiritual worlds and taught that organised religion was a metaphor for her own faith so there'd be no problem with her taking part in Max's marital rites. While Father Bruno seemed a little put out by Monica's reasoning of how his teachings compared to her beliefs, he'd agreed to perform the ceremony.

The priest droned through the teachings, impressing upon his listeners the importance that family values played in faith and in people's lives in general. Monica deeply regretted that her father hadn't lived to see her wedding, but she did not let it overwhelm her. After all, she knew Max was also upset that his mother couldn't be there, but there were still many others dear to them both who were. As Monica reflected on this, she felt herself becoming uncharacteristically emotional that Gerald Zelmite had asked to be allowed to give her away, a surprisingly touching gesture coming from such a stern man.

Having escorted her up the aisle, the older Zelmite was now seated in the front pew on the left, looking particularly dignified in his vintage black and gold trimmed suit complete with a top hat (removed when he entered the church of course). Since there was no one from Monica's family attending and most of the friends she had were also friends of Max, the church had been divided into the front few pews for friends and Max's family and the back half for people who were just there for the event.

The marriage continued with Monica and Max standing rigidly on their pedestals in front of the priest while everyone else got to sit down. Max seemed to be finding it very tiring and was sagging a little against Monica's shoulder. He looked quite washed out. Monica smiled- she truly felt for him, after what he must have gone through last night. Max hadn't planned to have any sort of stag party. With all the build-up to the wedding, his idea of a last night of freedom was to have a well-deserved rest. He should have realised that Donny had accepted his decision far too easily.

When the time came, Monica had just sat back and enjoyed the view from her bedroom window as Donny, Erik, Addis and two of Max's old school friends had literally stuffed the boy in a sack and carried him off for a night on the town. Monica had in turn enjoyed an unusual 'hen night' as the Palm Brinkians called it- Milane had unexpectedly shown up after Max's kidnapping and demanded that she get to see Monica's sword skills in action before she settled into married life and laid down her sword.

Monica nearly snorted out loud in the church. It would take a lot more than marriage to make _her_ lay down her sword.

Nevertheless, she and Milane had spent the night doing some friendly sparring, and Monica had enjoyed it. It wasn't like there was anything else she'd had to do, nor was there anything she'd missed out on by spending time with the swordswoman. Even after living in Palm Brinks for a year, there were precious few people she considered as close friends. That was one of the many things she'd left behind in the future.

Left behind, but as it had turned out, not lost.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

Four months ago

It was a fine day considering spring had barely even started. The sky was clear and the gentle rays of the sun had banished the cold night pleasantly, but no one was about to appreciate the weather- it was Monday, and everyone was at work.

Monica hurried through the almost empty streets. She almost felt frustrated that there was no one for her to greet and share her news with, but the utopic sensation driving her on cancelled out any negativity.

Monica made it to the maintenance shop in record time and burst through the door. A particularly oily Max looked up from the rusty lawnmower sitting on the constructor as Monica stopped at the top of the small flight of stairs.

"Monica!" he exclaimed in what could only be delight, before ripping off his glasses and hiding them in his pocket. Monica hadn't realised just how cute it was the way he never wanted to be seen wearing them. She giggled, much to Max's surprise.

"What's so funny?"

Monica didn't bother answer. She vaulted the banister and dropped to the lower floor just as Max was standing up. She greeted him by throwing her arms around his neck, not giving a thought to the grime smeared all over him.

"Hiya, Max! Miss me?"

"Er… yeah, of course," Max answered with a moment's hesitation before he hugged Monica in return. "See you had a good trip then."

Monica pulled back and lowered her arms to Max's, keeping them in a lose embrace.

"How long was I gone?"

Ever since Monica had returned briefly to her own time to get appropriate clothing for Cedric's funeral, she'd been making regular visits back home. Bending the rules of time was an unpredictable process, and the time she spent away could translate differently in the one hundred years past. For Monica she had only gone back to the Raybrandt state for three days before allowing the Ixions engines to belch her back to the past at Palm Brinks station, but for Max it could've been as long as-

"A fortnight!"

"A fortnight! Wow, that's the longest yet."

The pained look on Max's face told her he agreed, no doubt remembering the long days he'd spent waiting, surely wondering as time went on if maybe she wasn't coming back- either trapped by some flaw in time travelling technology or magic, or not just delayed but choosing to return to her home once and for all. She felt guilty, but told herself she'd make it up to him later. Right now she wanted to share her news with him.

"Well, why don't you take a break? We've got to catch up," Monica said. Agreeing to the proposal, Max laid down his tools and they both went down to the lower level to sit at the table.

"So, what's been going on with you?" Monica asked. She was desperate to talk but allowed Max a chance before she dropped the bombshell she was carrying. Max seemed just as eager to hear what she had to say because he summed up her two week absence in about twenty seconds and said "So, what happened to you while you were away?"

"Well, you remember how I went back a few months ago to get my dress for… Cedric's funeral?" Monica said the last part delicately. Another pained look crossed Max's face, but he'd gotten over the worst of Cedric's death over the last three months and was fine talking about it.

"Well, when I went back home there seemed to be a lot going wrong- a lot of very unhappy people about. So I started making more visits back to get an idea of what was going on. My old political party is still running and they invited me to join them again. And guess what they told me? President Varn is absolutely incompetent!"

"Really?" Max said.

"Really. The whole country's in uproar about it. Varn's accused of pushing for policies that suit him financially and his own party have demanded that he resign. Over half the government sector say that if he doesn't they'll refuse to recognise his authority. He's almost caused a full scale rebellion."

"And this is good how?"

"It's good," Monica leaned closer to the young man with an intense look in her eye "because both the government and the public are practically begging me to come back and take charge again!"

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Is that allowed?"

"Well, the Vice-President is petitioning to have the constitution revoked and to reinstate the monarchy- he used to be an advisor for my father- but I've told them I refuse to accept the crown. The monarchy's so out-dated and undemocratic. But an emergency meeting was held and they've amended the constitution- when Varn resigns I've been voted to assume 'emergency office' for a year, after which there'll be another election, for which I'll prepare for properly this time of course. Varn's party are sacking him so they won't have recovered by then, and the only other real competitor is another one of my father's advisors, and he says if I try for election again he'll put his support behind me. I'm going to be in charge of my country again!"

Max's reaction was not what she hoped it would be. Far from being pleased for her, his face was a blank canvas. When he spoke after a moment's thought there was something in his voice she couldn't identify.

"You seem pretty pleased to be taking over your land."

The atmosphere changed subtly with those words, but Monica refused to believe that it was a chill in the air that she felt. Her ecstatic nature dimmed but stayed strong and she laughed.

"Max, since I was old enough to speak I was told it was my duty to rule the land. I been preparing for it all my life; of course I'm pleased."

"Well," Max stood up sharply "guess there's no reason to hang around then. You need to get back and get to work; don't let me hold you up."

Max left the table and returned to the upper floor to work on the lawnmower. Monica was stunned. Max had… 'Dismissed' her. For all the time they'd ever been in the same place and time it was as though they couldn't get enough of each other's company. They'd eaten together, worked together, travelled together, fought monsters together. Max had taken her around Palm Brinks and shown all the places that were significant to him for one reason or another, and Monica had shared with Max stories of her life and snippets of history that would follow on from the towns they'd helped restore. Now Max had casually turned his back on her, as though he found her boring.

Monica quickly recovered and followed her friend back to where he was already working on the lawnmower again.

"Max what's wrong?"

Max slammed his wrench down and rounded on her.

"So that's it, is it! ? You just take off and I'm supposed to wait how long? Two weeks? Six weeks? A year?"

"W-what?"

"You're just going to go and become President, and I'm going to get left behind?"

Monica was confused. Where had this come from?

"I'll come back. I won't forget you," she could almost have laughed that she'd actually had to say that out loud, but she didn't- this was no time for laughter.

"And you're okay with that because you know I'm not going anywhere," Max shot back. "You just leave whenever you want and come back when it suits you and expect me to be sitting around with nothing better to do than be ready to play the hotel manager with free bed and board every time you need it."

Now that hurt, _bad_.

Taking a deep breath, Monica looked max in the eye and said "I come back- _came_ back- to see you. You're the only reason I still travel between times. I miss you Max."

"But not enough to stop leaving and keeping me waiting for whenever your next visit might be."

"Max, I can't help the difference created by time travel."

Max sneered- actually _sneered_ at her words. He looked so angry, but there was also a sadness; almost a distress in his eyes as he spoke.

"Someone else I know once said they had to let me down because they couldn't help 'the rules of time' or something or other, and I'm saying the same thing to you that I said to them- you shouldn't have come back in the first place then."

Now Monica was angry as well. The diplomatic façade she used against her political opponents wouldn't come to her whist facing Max. She never had been able to hide her feelings from him. Calmness melted away, and her temper boiled over in its place.

"I came back in time to help you!"

"And now that's all done with you couldn't care less!"

"If that's what you think, you're just clueless."

Max scowled questioningly. Monica spat out the answer before he could ask.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be separated from everything you've ever known? To feel trapped? To be unable to have things go back to normal? I've lost damn near everything, and now I've got a chance to get it all back."

"What about me? What about the friends you have here? You don't seem worried about losing any of that."

"I have responsibilities to think about, Max. How can you be so selfish? Didn't you learn anything about responsibility in our adventure?"

"I learned to look after the things I care about," Max became solemn all of a sudden, looking Monica in the eye with deadly seriousness. "I learned to not take the people I love for granted."

There was an electric moment where everything stopped. Monica felt her anger evaporate, but the tension in the room remained. Max had just used the 'L' word in reference to her. In all the time they'd known each other they never discussed- and as far as Monica knew never even considered- the depth of their relationship.

They were close. Very close. Perhaps too close if this argument was anything to go by. In the past, for all her fondness for Max, Monica had simply accepted that there was a distance between them, what with living in different time periods. Ever since she'd started living in Palm Brinks that barrier had suddenly been none existent. She hadn't felt that their closeness had increased because of the change of circumstances, but now she thought about it, maybe she'd been too content with the amount of time she had been able to spend with Max to notice any difference. But now she was noticing it, and now she was asking herself _'How do I feel about Max?'_ and _'How does Max feel about me?'_

By the end of their adventure to defeat Emperor Griffin, the answer had been an obvious 'Great Friends'. By the time she'd settled into the Zelmite household, Monica would have happily have amended that to 'Best Friends'. Now though, neither of those previous answers seemed to define their relationship. They weren't enough. Monica realised that she'd wondered this question before, but had put off answering it out of necessity- the bane of her life- when they'd received the terrible news about Cedric's death. Just a couple of days before, she and Max had been in Balance Valley in search of a safer way to the lighthouse cape. They'd succeeded. They were carried away with shared exaltation after the exhausting effort, and the whole thing had finally culminated in… a brief kiss.

It hadn't been shocking or exciting. They'd both been a little surprised with themselves, but then they'd just laughed, still caught up in the joy of their triumph, as though the kiss was just natural. Monica had wondered what that meant- the sheer casualness of the gesture- but the mourning period for their old friend followed by the discovery of the state her kingdom was in had chased it from her mind.

And with good reason.

"You're right, Max," she replied. "We shouldn't take the people we love for granted. I learned that when I lost my father. That's why I'm doing this. My father taught me that to be a leader didn't mean I ruled people, it meant I served them. I can't afford think about what I want; to put my needs before my people. My purpose is to serve those who need me, and I have to be where I'm needed most."

All talking stopped. Max had no argument that would go against that, and Monica couldn't shy away from her duty even if it meant hurting the young man in front of her.

Impasse.

Until…

"If you came back to tell me you won't have enough time for me anymore, I don't want to hear it."

Max's voice was so empty; so dead and hopeless that the very sound of it made Monica's heart clench. She wanted to scream and rage and storm at Max, to tell him he was wrong but she couldn't. Max looked absolutely heartbroken, and it was _her_ fault.

Max turned back to his work. Monica opened her mouth; reached out a hand to him, trying to think of some way to apologise, or to make him rethink what he was saying, but she stopped. Was there a harsh truth in his words? How could she make him see things from her point of view? Or perhaps he already saw, but more clearly than she was prepared to acknowledge? Would she lose him if she accepted her role as President Raybrandt? Would that stop her?

As she left the maintenance shop with no memory of having turned around and walked away, memories of the last year floated through her mind.

Cold winter nights in the mansion in front of the fire, Gerald reading while she and Max talked, played some board game, listened to the radio or tried toasting over the fireplace with humorously disastrous results.

A holiday in in Veniccio- the sun and sea and sand so much more refreshing with someone to share it with. Max's cute, blushing face as she stepped out of her beach hut in a bikini.

Investigating a creepy mansion in the Sindain forest, drawing such comfort from each other as they faced the horrors within and eventually defeated the undead monster lurking in the cellars.

That moment on the cliffs of Balance Valley, and their kiss- sudden and fleeting and done on the spur of the moment, but still a kiss.

As she reminisced, Monica realised there was a question she had to ask herself.

'_Can I go without Max for the rest of my life?'_

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

'_No.'_

The answer was obvious, thinking about it now.

Monica shook herself. Why was she thinking about that now? She'd settled that side of things ages ago. Fortunately for her and Max, it was far easier communicating across times than travelling between them. With a complicated combination of magical ritual and experimental technology, Monica was able to make governmental decisions from the office that her previous bedroom in the mansion would become, supplementing her leadership with regular visits back to her time. Not everyone was entirely happy with the arrangement, but the people back home would just have to like it or lump it, and Max now knew that for however long she was away she was guaranteed to come back to her husband.

The ceremony progressed, and at last they came to the climax. Both Max and Monica exchanged their wedding vows, placing a ring on each other's finger. Nervousness affected even Monica at this point; she could muster no more than a whisper from her throat, and when she tried to hold Max's gaze she thought she might started laughing hysterically. When they were invited to hold hands for the final blessing, it was like a contest to see who could crush whose hand first.

"The ceremony is ended," Father Bruno announced loudly. "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

There, that was it. They were married.

Max and Monica looked at each other. There was a hushed moment, or maybe time had stopped for them. And then Monica felt it- the joy rising inside her like flames growing higher and higher, and as though his eyes were mirrors for her own emotions, she saw the same joy in Max.

Monica's hand darted out viper fast, grabbed Max by his collar, and nearly toppled him from his pedestal as she pulled him close for their first kiss as a married couple.

The crowd in the church cheered at the sight, with Donny's wolf-whistles carrying over the hubbub. The musicians struck up a jovial tune, and at Gerald's urging the newlyweds broke their kiss and began to march steadily back down the aisle.

Both Monica and Max couldn't stop grinning- by the time they reached the doors their faces were sore. Monica felt lightheaded as she stepped out in the open air, to the cheers of those who hadn't been able to fit into the church. She strongly suspected that Need had been selling tickets to decide who would be allowed in. She'd always been suspicious of that medal exchange of his, but she decided to let it pass… for now.

"Well, that's it. We've married," Max finally got over the shock enough to speak. He let go of Monica's hand and linked arms with her instead.

Monica beamed at him and said "What do you mean 'That's it'? This is just the start."

Max's smile grew a little more, and he initiated another kiss, much to the appreciation of the onlookers.

"So," he said as they broke apart "You wanna go back and change into something? That dress is so long you're practically tripping over it."

They both looked at the hem of Monica's dress. They couldn't even see her feet the fabric was so bunched up around them. Surprisingly, Monica started giggling to herself.

"Oh no, Max," she purred. "I've gotta keep this on _allll_ day."

"Why?"

"Oh you'll see," Monica gave Max another quick peck on the lips, then began dragging him off to the reception.


	5. Chapter 5

**Shoes**

The reception was more like a festival. Since the whole town had turned out, the town square was being used to host the event, with the town hall foyer reserved for the actual wedding party.

The first part of the celebration was the meal, for which Max and Monica were very grateful for, having both been too nervous to eat all day, and it was now past lunch time. The wedding party were provided with a menu to choose from, with their meals prepared and brought to them while the public queued up at stalls outside and were served by staff hired by Need.

Just about every food known to man was available, piled on tables in and outside the town hall. There were small stacks of fruit, which included heart throb cherries, stone berries, bananas, peaches and milky white apples known as fruits of Eden. Crusty bread rolls and blocks of cheese were handed out in parcels of wax paper. Massive slices of watermelon and trays of tiny potato cakes were shared out over the tables and there was a smattering of both fresh and boiled carrots. Hunks of premium chicken on the bone and charging ram steaks sweated juices and filled the air with their warm aroma. Priscleen, baku baku and several other breeds of fish were available to be grilled to order, and freshly cut and fried chips were spooned liberally onto plates by the chefs and waiters running the stalls that lined the sidewalk and the town hall foyer. There were even Sindain grass cakes, but no one except visiting Firbits seemed interested in trying them. Pumpkin pies, double puddings and witch parfaits were put aside for desert.

All in all, it was an incredible feast, the only thing more incredible about it being the amount of waste there'd probably be.

Distribution of wine for the public was strictly overseen by bartenders and Sheriff Blinkhorn who remained on duty throughout the celebrations. Spring water and some fruit juices were provided for the kids and teetotallers. Vintage wine from both the cellars of the Mayoral office and the Zelmite mansion was reserved for the head table. Now old enough to drink, Monica daintily sipped at her wine and passed out compliments like a connoisseur. Max didn't actually like the taste of alcohol but tried a drink that he'd got the recipe for while visiting La Chao's bistro in the future. The name was all but unpronounceable to anyone who didn't know the far eastern language, but it was commonly known as 'stamina drink' for reasons obvious to anyone who'd tried it.

"You'll need more than that if you're gonna last the night," Donny remarked on Max's half full glass with a sly smile. The happy couple were saved the trouble of chasing Donny off as Gerald cleared his throat sharply and the boy darted away like a scalded whelp.

"Doesn't he ever let up?" Max shook his head after his friend and turned his attention back to his meal. Monica shrugged as she raised a berry to her lips.

"He's probably right though," she stated matter-of-factly, smirking as Max choked on his fried priscleen.

Lunch proceeded without further incident, with Max wolfing down his food ravenously while Monica maintained an air of grace, though she was as hungry as Max. The first course eventually came to an end, and a band was set up on the town hall steps.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Mayor Need spoke in his thin, reedy voice to everyone in the hall and those outside close enough to hear "the married couple will perform their first dance."

" '_Perform' _?" Max whispered. "Is all this for our marriage or are we just the entertainment?"

"Ah, don't be such a killjoy Max. This'll be fun," Monica answered as she pulled Max to his feet. Together they walked out into the open area in front of the dinner tables to the giggling whispers of Mena and Claire and Donny's sniggering.

"Honestly, Max. I don't why you didn't just order your butler to be the best man."

"Well you didn't make any suggestions at the time. All I remember you saying was not to invite Erik."

"Can you blame me? When I'm getting married the last thing I want is another man ogling me all day." Monica gestured with her head towards where Erik was sitting at a table in a pale blue suit that clashed dreadfully with his hair, watching Monica with a wistful look on his face. The happy couple both suppressed laughs at the sight.

As they took their place in the centre of the Town Hall, Mayor Need backed away with a multitude of bows and signalled to the band. A sharp wheeze of the accordion played by Borneo introduced the Midnight Tango. Max paused with obvious uncertainty. Typical, Monica thought to herself. In some matters he was an absolute master, always knowing the right thing or having the right skills to achieve almost anything. At other times, he was completely clueless. She'd seriously have to educate him in some things, starting with dancing.

With a sudden jerk of her arm, Monica spun her husband into her grasp, and off they went.

"Where'd you learn to dance?" Max asked as he tried not to appear as though he was the one being led.

"All part of learning to become a princess. The dancing was part of my combat training."

Before Max could ask any further, Monica stumbled and nearly unbalanced them both. She regained her footing, but she clearly wouldn't be doing any more elaborate dance moves. Max was clearly relieved when she mentioned this, but he was thinking back to how she also tripped in the church.

"Are you okay, Monica? You look like your feet are hurting you."

Monica lurched clumsily yet again, but far from feeling embarrassed she felt as though she might burst out laughing.

"Max, I promise you my feet are fine," she said with a knowing wink and a wide grin. Max searched her face suspiciously- just what was she up to?

"So, then," Max said in a somewhat dreamy voice, "We're married now."

"Yeah," Monica replied, draping her arms around her husband's neck and choosing to simply sway with the music.

"You'll never have to worry about me leaving ever again."

Max's mind sharpened at those words. He looked Monica straight in the eye.

"Monica, just promise me one thing."

"Just one?" she asked with a coy smile.

Max laughed but then looked serious.

"Just… don't let anyone know the truth about use getting engaged."

Monica looked at Max equally seriously.

'_Ah yes,'_ she thought. _'The engagement…'_

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

One day after the argument

It was four o'clock and Max hadn't left his room all day. He was hungry but felt sick at the thought of eating. His servants thought he might be ill but he refused any offers to fetch a doctor. Gerald Zelmite had eventually come to see his son, but had shrewdly divined what was wrong and chastised him for sulking. Monica knew all this from asking Stewart the butler when she'd entered the house.

Max _was_ sulking, but more than that, he was depressed. His spirit was low and he was constantly distracted with the knowledge that there was something wrong in the world. More than anything he longed to be able to set things right with the person he'd fallen out with. Monica knew this because that was exactly how she felt, and after one look in Max's eye when she flung open the door to his room, she would have bet her ponytail he felt the same.

It took about one second for the combined look of hurt and relief to cross Max's face to see her after she hadn't come home the night before. In the next second he took in Monica's whole appearance. On the third second-

"Monica, what the _hell_ happened to you! ?"

Monica looked dreadful. She was pale and hollow cheeked. She squinted painfully in the gentle afternoon light, and she looked like she had two black eyes the bags under them were so pronounced. Her limbs appeared to have shrivelled and she stooped as she limped through the doorway. Even her hair had lost its glossy sheen, looking more like a length of frayed hemp. Max jumped up ran to her, and she instinctively gave up trying to hold herself up as he drew near and flopped into his arms.

"Hiya, Max," she grinned vaguely. She felt dizzy, and everything she heard sounded muffled. With Max's help she made her way to a chair and fell into it.

"I'll get Stewart to call a doctor," Max said, but Monica waved the suggestion away.

"I don't need a doctor. I'm just a little tired."

"You look like you've been starved! What happened?"

"I went back to the future last night. I didn't want to keep you waiting, so I researched and found a magical ritual that could guarantee to within a day when I'd be back. But on my side of time it takes a long time to complete, and once started it can't be stopped."

"How long did it take?"

Monica mulled over the question.

"A month."

"A month! You haven't had any food for a month! ? Or sleep by the look of it!"

"I had some time to sleep. And I had plenty of this," Monica weakly flourished a bottle at Max, then took a sip. The herbal remedy tasted disgusting, but it did wonders for restoring her energy.

"What good's that after a month of _this_?" Max waved at her shrivelled form. Monica shrugged and took another sip of her concoction.

They sat there in brooding silence for a short but indeterminable amount of time while Monica caught her breath. Eventually it was Max who broke the silence.

"Why did you do this? Because of our argument? Or to prove something about the trouble with traveling through time?"

The former princess of Raybrandt had been starting to dose, but she craned open one eye at the sound of Max's voice. The young man's face was a combo of anger and hurt, but there was also a touch of guilt. Typical- he was supposed to be angry with her, but he was blaming himself for her own situation. He was crouched dutifully at her side with his arms half reached out and his hands clenching and unclenching together in that way when he wanted to act to put things right even when he was powerless to do so.

'_Poor Max. Always trying to help me, even when I've upset you.'_

"I had to go back- I needed time to think. When it was time to come back I decided it was unfair to keep you waiting again, so I researched some ways to make my journey more reliable."

Max frowned at Monica. He said "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving again?"

Monica didn't answer immediately. She turned away and suddenly found the wall very interesting.

"What I said yesterday still stands. I have a duty to perform, and I'm going to do all I can to become President of my state. After what you said I thought maybe it was best not to say goodbye."

She glanced at Max quickly with an ashamed look in her eye.

"I was planning to leave and not come back."

The look of outrage and disgust on Max's face nearly broke Monica's heart.

"How could you even think of doing something like that! ?"

"You said you didn't want to hear me say I didn't have time for you."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean-"

"Max, please. Do you think I wanted to do that? Do you think it wasn't hard for me?"

It was Monica's tone more than her words that made Max stop. She was so tired; weakened in body and already emotionally drained after just a few words with Max. She wasn't in a fit state for a conversation like this, but it was too late to stop now.

"I'm trying to do what's best for everyone. I did what I thought would be best for you."

"You thought leaving without a word would be best for me?" Max shot at her sarcastically.

"I thought if I was only ever going to make you unhappy by not being there for you then you were right- I shouldn't have come back in the first place."

Another pause, and the pair forced themselves to meet each other's eyes. Monica was pleased to see the anger ebbing in Max's eyes. There was a hint of uncertainty instead as he recognised his words from yesterday being used against him. Monica inwardly cringed and the underhandedness of it but she just couldn't cope with another screaming row, and if this was the best way to get Max to hear her out then so be it- by the time he heard what she had to say it'd be worth it. She used the opportunity to plough on.

"I was only back for a few hours when I started to calm down. And after I'd thought about it some more I came to a decision."

Max looked at her with foreboding.

"And what was that?"

With an effort Monica leaned forward and took one of Max's hands in her own.

"I didn't want to leave you."

A long moment of silence followed. Monica waited, silently imploring Max to not be angry any more. The boy eventually dropped his gaze, and Monica had to bite her tongue not to ask what he was thinking. When he looked back at her there was the old warmth in his eyes that she hadn't seen in over a month, and her heart swelled at the sight.

"Monica," he ventured awkwardly "I'm sorry for what I said. I know that being President is important to you. It's none of my business, and I should be supporting you rather than becoming something else for you to worry about. I've been selfish."

"We've both been selfish," Monica was amused to see the crestfallen look on Max's face as she agreed with his part in the argument.

"What you said was true. I _have_ been using you, Max. When I was visiting my home over the last few months I didn't think once about how you might feel about me being gone. I've just been using your home as somewhere to crash, and it isn't right."

Max looked away with a frown, his gaze tracking over his room.

"I guess being stuck in this town all my life, and then then still living here despite all the places I've seen- before we met I thought so much about getting out of this town. I guess I've always taken it for granted, having a home to go back to."

He turned to look at the girl in front of him.

"Monica, if you really feel you need to go back to your time, it's alright. I won't argue or try to stop you."

With a subtle smile, Monica leaned forward till they were a hand span apart. A hand, rough skinned through years of swordplay, found and delicately touched Max's cheek.

"I'd like to stay here, if that's okay with you."

Max beamed at her and spluttered something like "Ofcourseyou'n'stay," but then he frowned.

"What about becoming President?"

"I'm going to rule from here, in Palm Brinks. I don't need to be there to make my decisions as long as I have all the information. But it does mean I'll need to make trips back to my time regularly."

"Using methods like this?" Max gestured to Monica's weakened body.

"I'll alternate."

Max's face darkened and he immediately opened his mouth in protest but Monica stayed him with a sharp "Max!"

When she was sure she had his attention, she said "I've made up my mind about this. It's the only fair way to do it."

"How do you think it's going to make me feel seeing you seriously ill every second time you come back from the future?" Max argued.

"I've seen how it makes you feel when I'm only gone a few days but you have to spend several weeks waiting for me to come back," Monica retorted. She then took a deep breath and continued in a more understanding tone.

"I'm sorry if you don't like how this time travel thing works, and I'm sorry it's going to make you feel bad every time you see me like this, but we can't go on the way we have been. You were unhappy with how long I'd be gone for, and that made me unhappy too. Using this ritual every so often so that I'm the one that has to wait and not you is the only way we can create some sort of balance. As for my health, I'm not seriously ill, just drained. I'm prepared to do this for both our sakes and I want you to support me. I don't want to make myself sick any more than you want to see me like this, but it's the only real option we have to make this work, and in the end it's my health to risk, not yours."

Max tightened his lips in annoyance, but at length he nodded resignedly. Monica was both satisfied and relieved. She knew Max would try to force her to go back to her previous way of travelling time if he could, but that method had nearly ended up costing them their friendship, and she wasn't going to gamble it again. She was certain once they'd gotten used to switching between who'd have to be without the other for a length of time they'd both be a lot happier. Confident that her decision would work out for the best in the end, Monica decided it was now time to discuss the far more important decision she'd come to whilst she'd been away.

"There's one more thing," she said. "After everything that's happened, I think you deserve something from me."

Max's brow creased and he said "What do you mean?"

"I want to give you a guarantee that I won't just up and vanish one day."

At first Max looked both grim at the suggestion, but a small smile then graced his face.

"You don't have to do that Monica- I trust you."

"I know. And I trust you. More than that; since I left my time you made me feel welcome and safe and happy. I mean we've had hard times, but when I look back I'm only glad I've known you through it all."

Max broke eye contact with her again, and there was an undeniable blush on his face.

"Well, thanks Monica. And I… uh. I guess… I feel the same about you to."

Monica raised an eyebrow.

"I mean of course I feel the same," the mechanic quickly corrected. "That's why I was so cut up when I thought you were leaving. I… _really_ like you being here Monica."

"Good," Monica smiled softly. "Then I'll hope you accept this guarantee of mine."

The ex-princess reached into a pocket and withdrew with something clutched in her hand.

"While I was in the future I went to see you mother to ask her for advice. When she knew what I planned to do she gave me this."

Monica opened her hand to reveal a band of entwined gold and silver with a large diamond worked into it.

"It's your mother's wedding ring."

Monica reached out to take one of Max's hands as his face opened with astonished understanding.

"Max," Monica looked him deep in the eye "will you marry me?"

Max's chin hit the floor.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

"If anyone finds out that you had to propose to me I'll never hear the end of it."

Monica laughed out loud. She could only imagine what it would be like if Donny ever got wind of this little secret. She had a feeling Gerald might know- he'd of course recognised the ring instantly so must have known it was Monica who got it from Elaine. But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was that they were married and things were never going to be the same again- but in a good way.

The dance came to an end, to a polite applause from the remainder of the wedding party and a few 'Whoo's!' and 'Yeah's!' from those watching outside. The band began to prepare for another song, and a few people began looking for dance partners. Max and Monica took that as their moment to sit down; Max was through being led by Monica for Donny's very verbal amusement and Monica's feet were really starting to hurt.

As more dancing began, both in and outside the town hall, Max stretched out in his seat and said "So, ready for desert?"

"Actually, I thought we could wait a bit," Monica turned in her seat and signalled to a waiter who scurried over with a box.

"There's something else I thought you might like to try first. It's a wedding present, though it's not exactly from me."

Bemused, Max undid the red bow and lifted the lid off the purple box. What he found in there had him lost for words.

"Did you really think your own mother would send nothing but a congratulations card for your wedding?"

With reverent delicacy, Max lifted a slice of potato pie out of the box, kept as fresh and warm as though it had just come from the oven thanks to a trick of time altering magic.

"Go on, try a bit," Monica urged.

Max seemed frozen with emotion. They'd all been sad that they hadn't been able to get Monica's time spanning communicator working so that Elaine could observe the wedding. When Monica had gone back to see her they'd both decided something special was needed to make up for it.

Max was too emotionally overwhelmed by the gesture to do anything, so Monica gently helped her husband, cutting off a chunk of pie and spearing it with a fork. As she lifted it to his mouth, Max finally managed to regain some control of his motor functions and took the fork with a grateful nod. He ate the piece and closed his eyes in bliss as he chewed.

"Good?" asked Monica.

"Better than I even remembered," Max answered wistfully. He had a faraway look on his face as he tried another piece, no doubt thinking back to his childhood.

"Thank you Monica," Max reached out to hold Monica's hand under the table. Despite the show they'd put on at the church, Max was a little uncomfortable with making public displays of affection. That was okay though; Monica only really wanted to express her feelings for Max to Max himself. Everyone else could pretty much mind their own business in that regard.

Max abruptly broke contact with Monica and dug his hand into his pocket.

"I also got you something," he said, pulling out a folded piece of wadding. "I was going to wait till later, when we were alone, but…"

He handed the bundle over, looking down into his lap as his face coloured. Monica couldn't help but smirk at his embarrassment.

The girl opened the fabric to find what was inside. The object was a silver cuff with a wedge coming off it that was decorated with swirls and curves depicting either gusts of wind or waves on the ocean. Set in the centre of it was an aquamarine almost the size of her palm. It was smooth with rounded edges, no corners to be seen anywhere. Monica realised at once what it was- it was a hair ornament. It had been copied from the Moon Atlamillia, custom made till it resembled the lost relic near perfectly except for being a little smaller. There was only one person who could have made such a thing; one person who knew of her love for hair ornaments and could have made something so accurate in detail and so meaningful. Monica looked up at Max.

"You made this yourself?"

Max nodded mutely.

Monica launched herself forward and enveloped Max in a bone crushing hug till he gasped and begged for mercy. To hell with hiding public displays of affection- she loved Max and didn't give a damn who knew, as long as he knew.

"This is…" Monica pulled away at last and gazed at her wedding present "…very thoughtful."

Monica fought back a tear that threatened to run down her face. She was not going to end up crying, no matter what.

"Glad you like it," Max smiled. "It started off as a welcome to your new home present when you first came to live with us. But it took a little bit longer than I thought. I only finished it last week."

Monica tried to give Max a withering look, but was too moved by the gift to express anything other than a wobbly smile.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Yeah," Max smiled warmly "but not a beautiful as you," he pulled Monica into a softer, gentler hug.

"I love you Monica."

Now some tears did fall, and Monica let them as she smiled and hugged Max back.

"I love you too Max- so very much."


	6. Chapter 6

**Shoes**

The celebrations continued throughout the afternoon, desert being served casually as and when people wanted it. Max and Monica had danced plenty despite whatever was wrong with Monica's feet, too caught up in each other to care. After a while Gerald had asked his new daughter in law for a dance which she accepted, and Max found a temporary partner in Mena.

"Well, congratulations, Max. I'm really happy for you," Mena beamed sincerely.

"Thanks," replied Max. "And thanks for helping Monica prepare. She told how me much you and Claire enjoyed helping her. Not too disappointed that it's over, are you?"

"Nah. Just makes me all the more excited for when it's my turn. I just hope my wedding's as great as yours."

Mena threw and glance towards Monica then back to Max.

"You two really are made for each other. It's so cute! I'd wish you both luck for the future but there's no need- you two are just so right. So… so…"

Suddenly, Mena began tearing up.

"Hey! W-what's wrong?" asked Max.

"Nothing," Mena sobbed. "It's just so… _romantic_! I'm sorry Max, I've gotta find my tissues. I just wanted to say, you two are gonna be great!"

With that, Mena quickly kissed Max on the cheek and ran off to find her tissues, leaving Max standing there in confusion.

"Hope that was a very chaste kiss, sweetheart," Monica said in a mock threatening voice as she and Gerald waltzed past.

"Don't worry," Max held up his hands in an equally joking manner of mollification "I'm on my best behaviour."

Monica laughed, whilst Gerald flashed his son a thin smile with a satirical glint in his eye. Max sorely hoped his father wasn't going to suddenly develop a sense of humour in the next five seconds and mention to Monica that Mena was his ex-girlfriend. Not that it really mattered- Monica wasn't a jealous person, and he and Mena had split up before he'd had even met his wife to be. Ever since the half a year before Max's quest with Monica to save the world began, he and Mena had been good friends and nothing more. Not only that but he hadn't so much as looked at another girl ever since he'd met Monica, even in that period after his adventure where he'd believed he'd never see her again. There was nothing for Monica to be jealous about.

'_Then again, there's no reason why she has to know about me and Mena right now,'_ Max considered, remembering when they'd first met Lin. Max silently implored his father not to spill the beans.

As Max took to loitering on the perimeter of the dance area, he felt a warmth in his heart as he watched all the people he loved (save his mother) enjoying themselves, celebrating his marriage to the girl he loved more than all of them put together. He spotted Monica's other bridesmaid, Claire- she'd invited Erik to dance with her. His attraction to Monica apparently forgotten, the young engineer was grinning stupidly like he couldn't believe his luck, while Mayor Need looked on in horror as his daughter snuggled deeper into Erik's arms. Donny had tried and failed to get a dance from every girl present. Last Max had seen of him he'd be planning to try his luck in the crowd outside, but it seemed he had been pressed into a dance with his own mother. The boy hung his head in shame as his plump and thickset mother towed him across the dance floor, only looking up to glower as Max imitated Donny's earlier wolf whistling. Having claimed his revenge, Max strode towards the doors so he could go out and look for members of the Zelmite household staff who were celebrating out there. Max had insisted they have the day off and be guests at the wedding rather than serve. Gerald had grudgingly agreed but had counter insisted that they join the crowds outside rather than sit with the wedding party proper. Max frowned to himself, hoping he never became such a snob. He was sure Monica would set him right if he did, but knowing what Monica's temper was like he vowed to make sure to never give any reason to be on the receiving end of her distain.

The celebrations didn't start winding down till the evening. Until then, food was served, dancing continued and there was even some entertainment in the town square, which included a circus performance in homage to the popular but now banned Flotsam's circus troupe, and a short but rather embarrassing play about Max and Monica's adventure to save the world, with Max being played by Parn, Monica being played by Milane, and a firbit playing the part of Donny.

When evening finally came most of the crowd had dissipated. Apart from the waiters and chefs who were clearing up the only ones left were the Zelmite household staff, a few late night partiers and those who'd somehow managed to snag more than their fair share of wine and were trying to recall which direction home was in.

Now came the speeches, saved till the end of the night after the crowds had gone- the speeches were for the wedding party only.

First Donny made his speech, which in the main consisted of very bad jokes and a funny story which turned out to be an over exaggerated account of the stag night.

"I see," Monica commented quietly, narrowing her eyes at her husband. Max let out a nervous laugh. He'd have some explaining to do later.

Then it was Gerald's turn.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to thank you all for your attendance this evening to celebrate the marriage of my son, Maximilian, and Monica," Gerald Zelmite's clear, steady voice carried through the foyer, his strength of character easily hushing everyone. "Like you, I have come here this evening with the desire to express how pleased I am for this newly married couple and to wish them well for the future, but for me that desire has a far deeper meaning. As many of you must know, my relationship with my son has never been as strong as I'd like to say it has been. Ever since my darling wife Elaine was forced to leave us, it put an undeniable strain on that relationship."

Max looked away from his father, his face blanked with uncertainty. What Gerald said was unfortunately true, and it wasn't as if it was a big secret to the town, but he didn't want it being discussed now. Why was he saying this?

"My relationship with my own father was in fact much the same," Gerald went on. "When I came of age I argued against my father's intention for me to take over the family business with a view to follow my own path, just as I and Maximilian have often done. When the day came that I opened my own gunsmith shop, I feared my father might very well disown me. When he found out, however, his reaction was quite different to how I imagined. He was impressed with my determination to make my own choices, and made it clear how proud he was of me."

Gerald turned to look at Max.

"This has been the same with my own son. He has always known his own mind and known what he wants out of life, even as I've tried to stop him from achieving his own goals and keep him in the mining business. I see in Maximilian the same strength and determination of his mother, and regard him with the same respect my father regarded me with. He is a fine young man with a prosperous future ahead of him, and he has now entered into marriage with Monica, a young woman who, in the short time I've known her, has proved to be a dutiful, kind hearted and charming person who is clearly a perfect match for my son. I can honestly say, looking at them both now, that I have never been more proud in all my life."

Gerald lifted his glass and gestured to everyone present.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the bride and groom."

Everyone stood and toasted Max and Monica. Max didn't look up at first, a little overwhelmed by the nature of his father's speech.

"Wow, that was a really nice thing for your dad to say," Monica said.

"Yeah, it was," Max agreed, smiling a little as Gerald made his way over to them while the others began to get ready to leave.

"I hope you didn't consider my speech to be in any way embarrassing, Maximilian?" Gerald said softly, giving no indication of whether he'd be either offended or upset if the answer was 'yes'.

"No, not at all," Max said, before adding "and… thank you, father."

They smiled at each, Gerald breaking eye contact after a matter of seconds before things became too undignified.

Gradually the wedding party made their way outside, with thanks and congratulations being exchanged between everyone.

"Well, thanks for coming everyone," Max said loudly over the general hubbub. "Guess it's time to call it a night."

"Hang on!" exclaimed Mena.

"You've forgotten something!" Claire said fiercely.

"Huh?" Max backed up at the outbursts. "Forgotten what?"

"THE BOUQUET! !"

"Don't worry Max, I've got this," Monica stepped clear of her husband as she weighed up her bundle of stemmed flower heads in one hand. The tradition was to throw the bouquet backwards, up into the air to gentle fall among the unattached woman to determine who would be next to be married.

Monica wasn't one for tradition, nor was she prone to gentleness.

Monica's whole body coiled up, drawing the bouquet back in one hand and aiming out into the town square. She held herself in a state of tension for just a second, and then let fly. She couldn't have thrown the bouquet harder if she'd hit it with a spheda club.

The bunch of flowers soared out of the foyer, high into the air. Before it hard even begun to come down again, Mena and Claire shot from the town hall like bullets, racing each other to the prize.

"Well that should keep them busy for tonight," Max couldn't help but laugh, at last understanding the reason for Monica's choice of bouquet.

"Hmm… they'll not be the only ones," Monica whispered silkily. Max looked and Monica sharply. He smiled in an embarrassed way and blushed.

Monica smiled back and said "For a start, you can tell all about what happened on your stag night."

Max sighed. One of these days he was going to kill Donny.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

A few hours later

The town's celebration was finally over. Everyone had returned to their homes, including Max and Monica. The happy couple would be spending their honeymoon right there in Palm Brinks. Many thought it was an odd choice, but the pair had travelled so far and wide during their quest to save the world and seen so much that the only holiday they wanted was somewhere quiet and close at hand.

"Well, I'd say that was a very successful day," Gerald remarked idly as they filed into the mansion.

"I think 'good day' would be better, don't you think father?" Max raised an eyebrow. "I'm not really worried about how it looked for my public image."

"Well you should be. The Zelmite family have a reputation to uphold; you should pay it some thought."

"He's got a point, Max," Monica agreed, albeit in a more amused tone. "After all, you need a better reputation than the spoilt, rich kid of the town."

"Hey!"

"Anyway," Gerald was completely immune to Monica's wit "I'm going to bed now. I'll be leaving in the morning, first thing after breakfast."

"Father, at least stay a few more days. Mining can wait that long."

"Business never waits, Maximilian," Gerald said firmly. He was working on setting up mining operations in Heim Rada and had been living there on and off for the last few months. Now that Max and Monica were married, it looked as though he were about to make the move permanent, leaving the mansion to them.

"Well then, see you both tomorrow."

Gerald gave the pair one last nod, then retired to his room in the southern wing. All the servants had already departed for their own dormitories.

Max and Monica suddenly found themselves alone.

"It was a good day wasn't it?" asked Monica.

"Yeah."

"And I guess we should… also… go-"

"Yeah," Max expected to hear a tremor in his voice, but instead his voice was sharp and firm. His mind was supercharged with anticipation.

He knew what was supposed to happen now.

He looked at Monica. She returned his gaze and smiled. It was a strong smile, determined and confident just like Monica always was. And yet, all the bravado in the world couldn't hide the nervousness in her eyes.

She took Max by the hand- her own hand was shaking slightly- and led Max towards the staircase. Max followed numbly. He was excited, and terrified. He'd never given… _this_, much thought. Over the years he'd just been glad for whatever time they could have together. He'd always thought Monica pretty. Her face, with its expressiveness, strength and natural beauty had captivated him from the first time he'd seen it. Her character was a delight to know, making Max feel confident when he needed it, making him strong when he felt weak. But her figure- Max hadn't noticed until about halfway through his engagement; one day when they'd decided to spar together, and Monica had knocked him flat and pinned him down, then claimed her 'reward'. And while Max had held her tightly and enjoyed the kissing just as much as she did, their rather intimate position had made him realise with surprising awareness just how pleasantly shapely Monica was.

As Donny would say, she was a knockout.

He was worried about this night, afraid that he might somehow give the impression that he only wanted Monica for her body, or that he might not appear eager enough and offend her. In the weeks creeping towards the wedding he'd decided that Monica's stunning physical attractiveness was just something else to add to the list of things he already loved about her, and they'd approach _this_ the way they approached most things- together, with optimism and determination.

Now though, he started to feel uncertain again.

Monica's breath hitched, and she stopped on the stairs. She was downright afraid now. Max immediately gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Monica looked back, and her grin widened, nervousness dwindling slightly. In that instant, Max's courage was restored by Monica, just as it had been a hundred times before; just as Max had just restored Monica's confidence as he had a hundred times before. This was Monica- it would work out fine. And if it didn't then they'd _make_ it work out fine, just like they always did.

"Come on, let's get on with it," Monica giggled. Max nodded and stifled a laugh, too emotionally and physically worked up to form words.

Together they raced up the stairs.

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

It felt strange stepping into Max's bedroom. She'd been in and out of there so many times, but now Monica felt as though she should leave instantly and hide in a cupboard somewhere.

'_Dammit, why am I so freaked out! ?'_ Monica asked herself. _'Right now I should be punching the air and jumping for joy!'_

Monica regarded Max as he sat on the chair, removing his shoes. Mon had once shown a picture of her and Max to a friend in the future. Her friend had declared Max was a real catch and even admitted to being a little jealous of her luck. Monica had been taken aback- she thought the world of Max, yes, but that came from the unique relationship they'd developed after their adventure and then living together for a year. After her friends exclamation, however, Monica had tried looking at Max from the perspective of someone who hadn't bonded so deeply with him, and suddenly realised that he was indeed 'a real catch'. He was sensitive and smart, always willing to help, generous, and just plain good looking to boot. He wasn't athletically shaped or muscled or particularly tall as the sort of boys Monica had crushed on in her collage days had been (thank the gods she'd matured), but he was undeniably handsome. His face was kind and happy, and his soft golden locks could almost be seen as angelic, except for a certain rough around the edges look that he'd inherited from his father that made him appear ready to spring into action at any moment.

'_The word is rugged,' _Monica felt herself blushing.

Max had grown out of the gangly shape he'd been in during his adolescence- he was only as tall as her, but he had broad shoulders and strong limbs, courtesy of the years of hard work as a mechanic and a monster fighting hero of the town.

Any other girl would fight tooth and nail for this young man, and here she was trembling in her boots at the very thought of spending the night with him!

Monica turned away from Max as she tried to calm herself. She'd tried not to think about this night out of sheer embarrassment, but hadn't been able to get it out of her mind. What if it went wrong somehow? What if things became really awkward between them? What if she humiliated herself to Max?

'_Oh hell! Why did I plan this _surprise_ for Max? I don't know whose going to be more embarrassed by this!'_

"Monica?"

A warm grip encircled the young woman from behind. She tensed up.

"Are you okay?" Max's voice in her ear sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't know how to reply. Should she lie, and say everything was fine, and end rushing headlong into something she was really really not fine with? Or should she admit that she was close to a panic attack, and make Max feel as afraid as she was?

After a moment she opted for a neutral answer.

"How do _you_ feel?" she asked.

Max was silent. The tension was palpable. Monica remained rigid, basking in the comfort of Max's embrace but on edge from the intimate position they were in. All she could do was rely on Max to make the next move.

When he spoke, his voice was slow with nervousness, but caring and steady.

"I'm… a little afraid actually."

"A little?" Monica laughed, but her humour was false and vanished quickly. "Me to."

More silence, before Monica said "Do you want to… stop?"

Not that they'd actually started anything that they could stop. Monica hated herself for being weak enough to ask such a thing, but she'd never get through the night feeling the way she did now.

"No."

Max's answer made her pause for thought.

"I'm not afraid of being here with you," he continued. "I'm afraid because of how strong my feelings are at the moment; because… I _really_ want this, Monica. I… I want you… because I love you so much."

Max placed a soft kiss on Monica's neck. Warmth spread through her whole body, and all of a sudden, she stopped worrying. Max was one of the few people in the world who could do this to her.

He made her relax.

Monica wilted into her husband's embrace as he laid a trail of delicate kisses along her shoulder and collar bone. Each one sent little ripples of pleasure running through her. Each touch healed a little bit of her spirit that had been damaged by her panic. Already she was wondering how she could ever have imagined that this night would be anything but one shining memory among the many she intended to make out of her married life.

"I know just how you feel, Max," Monica whispered in bliss as Max tended to her. She let herself enjoy it for a minute before she pulled away.

Time for her big surprise.

"Well, time for bed I guess," Monica said in mock innocence as she reached up to the back of her neck. With one tug the knot of white thread came lose. The top of her dress fell away from her bosom. She heard Max gasp at the sight, even though she was still turned away from him. She smirked.

"Do me a favour and let down my hair would you?" Monica asked sweetly.

Max was next to her in an instant, fumbling to untangle the braid of flowers in her hair as quickly as possible. Monica had to fight not to laugh at his evident frustration, even though the delay was just as torturous for her.

At last, Max removed the mound of flowers and pulled away the gold ribbon at the end of her braid, casting them aside as her hair fanned out magnificently. She felt him stroke it tenderly and her heart began beating faster.

"Thank you, my love," Monica turned around to face Max and let her wedding dress fall the rest of the way to the floor.

Surprise!

X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X X-X

Max took a step back that was more like a stagger as he tried to acknowledge exactly what he was seeing.

Monica was leaning with one hand against the bedpost while the other one had been brought up to rest on her hip. Her body curved deliciously like some intricately scribed italic letter. And her body itself-

'_Oh my!'_

When Monica had dropped her dress like that he thought she must be completely bare. But the truth turned out to be far more alluring. Monica was wearing an incredible skimpy set of leopard print undergarments, made out of real fur. The top barely covered her at all- it was strapless and tied at her front, the flapping tails of the knot drawing the gaze tantalisingly to her cleavage. The lower segment of the costume was knotted at both her hips. Max found himself fascinated by the way that Monica's position made one tassel-like knot rest on her upper thigh while the other dangled down like a fishing lure.

Guess who the fish was.

"Like what you see?" Monica asked with a crooked smile. There were gloves on her hands, also furry leopard print, with little claws at the finger tips. Max vaguely acknowledged an open bedside draw indicating she must have put them on while he was untangling her hair. The assembly was completed by high heeled leopard print boots with claws on her toes as well. The whole was so elegant and sexy that Max found himself lost for words. Those knots looked so taut and delicate that the slightest touch would surely unlaced them and reveal-

'_Oh my, oh my, oh my!'_

"Well you better like it," Monica pretended to sound fierce but was clearly as excited as Max. "These shoes are made to look good, not for walking in- they're killing me!"

At last, Max found his voice.

"Wait a minute. You've been wearing that… _stuff,_ all day?"

"Uh huh," Monica nodded

"Through the church service! ?"

"Uh huh."

"You're unbelievable."

"Uh huh," Monica said yet again as she stood up straight and sauntered towards her husband, the movement of her lithe body far more pronounced than usual. "And that's why you love me."

Though she made a valiant effort to slink alluringly forward, Monica tripped over her own feet yet again. Max instinctively jumped forward to catch her, and Monica literally fell into his arms.

When Max realised that he was now holding Monica flush against his body his face turned crimson and his hands shook. For her part, Monica merely raised her eyebrows a little as she took in their situation, and then tipped her head towards Max's ear. The touch of her hair tickling his face was like electricity.

"Hmm, not what I planned, but I think I like it better this way," she whispered.

She laughed, and Max joined her. He'd never felt happier in his life. He'd felt like he'd never want for anything again.

Their laughed died away, and Monica straightened up so that they could look each other in the eye. All either of them could see was love and the promise of a wonderful future together. Nothing could overrule this judgement.

"Married life," Monica mused. "When I think of all the challenges we've had in our lives, I think this has got to be the biggest of them all."

"Yeah?" Max answered, lowering his arms to Monica's waist and pulling her closer. "Well of all the challenges we've faced, I don't think I've ever looked forward to any of them as much as this."

Monica draped her arms around Max's neck and moved her face close to his so they were almost touching noses, and spoke in a seductive voice she'd never used before.

"You ready for this, partner?"

"Sure am, partner."

And then they kissed each other.

**The End**

_**Well, this is the end of my fic. I hope you enjoyed it.**_

_**The idea came about one Saturday when I was playing DC again & was trying to get all the prizes from Need's medal exchange. starting with Monica's extremely expensive (and extremely sexy) Panther Assembly. I told myself that the matching boots could wait till later while I bought some other prizes, but the moment I put her in that costume still wearing the princess boots I knew I had to have those boots. This fic was inspired by that quest for the Panther Boots.**_

_**Hope you enjoyed. Please review. And remember… Keep reading!**_


End file.
